A Series of Plays in which it is attempted to delineate The Stronger Passions of the Mind, Volume Three/Orra Act 5
ACT V.
SCENE I.—The great Hall of the Castle. Enter Rudigere, Cathrina, and Attendants, by different Doors.
Rud. (to Attend.) Return'd again! Is any thing discover'd?
Or door or passage, garment dropt in haste,
Or footstep's track, or any mark of flight?
1st Att. No, by my faith! tho' from its highest turrets
To its deep vaults, the castle we have search'd.
Cath. 'Tis vain to trace the marks of trackless feet.
If that in truth it hath convey'd her hence,
The yawning earth has yielded them a passage,
Or else, thro' rifted roofs, the buoyant air.
Rud. Fools! search again. I'll raze the very walls
From their foundations, but I will discover
If door or pass there be to us unknown.
Ho! Gomez, there! (Calling off the stage.)
He keeps himself aloof.
Nor aids the search with true and hearty will.
I am betray'd.—Ho! Gomez, there, I say!
He shrinks away: go, drag the villain hither,
And let the torture wring confession from him.
(A loud knocking heard at the gate.)
Ha! who seeks entrance at this early hour
In such a desert place?
Cath. Some hind, perhaps,
Who brings intelligence. Heaven grant it be!
Enter an armed Vassal.
Rud. Ha! one from Aldenberg! What brings thee hither?
Vass. (seizing Rud.) Thou art my prisoner.
(To Attendants.) Upon your peril,
Assist me to secure him.
Rud. Audacious hind! by what authority
Speak'st thou such bold commands? Produce thy warrant.
Vass. 'Tis at the gate, and such as thou must yield to:
Count Hughobert himself, with armed men,
A goodly band, his pleasure to enforce.
(Secures him.)
Rud. What sudden freak is this? am I suspected
Of aught but true and honourable faith?
Vass. Aye, by our holy Saints! more than suspected.
Thy creature Maurice, whom thou thought'st to bribe
With things of seeming value, hath discover'd
The cunning fraud; on which his tender conscience,
Good soul! did o'the sudden so upbraid him,
That to his Lord forthwith he made confession
Of all the plots against the Lady Orra,
In which thy wicked arts had tempted him
To take a wicked part. All is discover'd.
Vass. Ha! most virtuous Lady!
Art thou alarm'd? Fear not: the world well knows
How good thou art; and to the Countess shortly,
Who with her Lord is near, thou wilt no doubt
Give good account of all that thou hast done.
Cath. (aside, as she retires in agitation.)
O heaven forbid! What hole o' th' earth will hide me!
[Exit.
(Enter by the opposite side, Hughobert, Eleanora, Alice, Glottenbal, Urston, Maurice, and Attendants.)
Hug. (speaking as he enters.) Is he secured?
Vass. He is, my Lord; behold!
(pointing to Rud.)
Hugh. (to Rud.) Black artful traitor! Of a sacred trust,
Blindly reposed in thee, the base betrayer
For wicked ends; full well upon the ground
May'st thou decline those darkly frowning eyes,
And gnaw thy lip in shame.
Rud. And rests no shame with him, whose easy faith
Entrusts a man unproved; or, having proved him,
Lets a poor hireling's unsupported testimony
Shake the firm confidence of many years?
Hugh. Here the accuser stands; confront him boldly,
And spare him not.
(Bringing forward Maurice.
Maur. (to Rud.) Deny it if thou canst. Thy brazen front,
All brazen as it is, denies it not.
Rud. (to Mau.) Fool! that of prying curiosity
And av'rice art compounded! I in truth
Did give to thee a counterfeited treasure
To bribe thee to a counterfeited trust;
Meet recompence! Ha, ha! Maintain thy tale,
For I deny it not.(With careless derision.)
Maur.O subtile traitor!
Dost thou so varnish it with seeming mirth?
Hugh. Sir Rudigere, thou dost, I must confess,
Out-face him well. But call the Lady Orra;
If towards her thou hast thyself comported
In honesty, she will declare it freely.
Bring Orra hither.(To Attendant.)
1st Attend. Would that we could; last night i' the midnight watch
She disappear'd; but whether man or devil
Hath borne her hence, in truth we cannot tell.
Hugh. O both! Both man and devil together join'd.
Rud. Restrain your rage, my Lord; I would right gladly
Obey you, were it possible: the place,
And the mysterious means of her retreat,
Are both to me unknown.
Hugh.Thou liest! thou liest!
(To Hugh.) Why lose we time in words when other means
Will quickly work? Straight to those pillars bind him,
And let each sturdy varlet of your train
Inflict correction on him.
Maur. Aye, this alone will move him.
Hugh. Thou say'st well:
By heaven it shall be done!
Rud. And will Count Hughobert degrade in me
The blood of Aldenberg to shame himself?
Hugh. That plea avails thee not; thy spurious birth
Gives us full warrant, as thy conduct varies,
To reckon thee or noble or debased.
(To Att.) Straight bind the traitor to the place of shame.
Rud. Now, take your will of me, and drag my corse
Thro' mire and dust; your shameless fury now
Can do me no disgrace.
Urston. (advancing.)
Rash, daring, thoughtless wretch! dost thou so close
A wicked life in hardy desperation?
Rud. Priest, spare thy words: I add not to my sins
That of presumption, in pretending now
To offer up to Heaven the forced repentance
Of some short moments for a life of crimes.
Urst. My son, thou dost mistake me: let thy heart
Confession make
Glot. (interrupting Urst.) Yes, dog! Confession make
Of what thou'st done with Orra; else I'll spurn thee,
And cast thy hateful carcase to the kites.
(Eleanora, who with Alice had retired from the shocking sight of Rudigere, now comes forward to him.)
El. Oh, Rudigere! thou art a dying man,
And we will speak to thee without upbraiding.
Confess, I do entreat thee, ere thou goest
To thy most awful change, and leave us not
In this our horrible uncertainty.
Is Orra here conceal'd?
Al.Thou hast not slain her?
Confession make, and heaven have mercy on thee!
Rud. Yes, Ladies; with these words of gentle meekness
My heart is changed; and that you may perceive
How greatly changed, let Glottenbal approach me;
Spent am I now, and can but faintly speak—
Ev'n unto him in token of forgiveness.
I'll tell what ye desire.
El.Thank heaven, thou art so changed!
Hugh. (to Glot.) Go to him, boy.
(Glottenbal goes to Rudigere, and stooping over him to hear what he has to say, Rudigere, taking a small dagger from his bosom, strikes Glottenbal on the neck.)
Glot. Oh, he has wounded me!—Detested traitor!
Take that and that; would thou had'st still a life
For every thrust.(Killing him.)
Hugh. (alarmed.) Ha! has he wounded thee, my son?
Glot. A scratch;
'Tis nothing more. He aim'd it at my throat,
But had not strength to thrust.
Hugh. Thank God, he had not!
(A trumpet sounds without.)
Hark! martial notice of some high approach!
(To Attendants.) Go to the gate.
[Exeunt Attendants.
El. Who may it be? This castle is remote
From every route which armed leaders take.
Enter a Servant.
Ser. The banneret of Basle is at the gate.
Hugh. Is he in force?
Ser. Yes, thro' the trees his distant bands are seen
Some hundreds strong, I guess; tho' with himself
Two followers only come.
Enter Hartman attended.
Hugh. Forgive me, banneret, if I receive thee
With more surprise than courtesy. How is it?
Com'st thou in peace.
Hart. To you, my Lord, I frankly will declare
The purpose of my coming: having heard it,
It is for you to say if I am come,
As much I wish, in peace.
(To El.) Countess, your presence much emboldens me
To think it so shall be.
Hugh. (impatiently.) Proceed, I beg.
When burghers gentle courtesy affect,
It chafes me more than all their sturdy boasting.
Hart. Then with a burgher's plainness, Hughobert,
I'll try my tale to tell,—nice task I fear!
So that it may not gall a baron's pride.
Brave Theobald, the Lord of Falkenstein,
Co-burgher also of our ancient city,
Whose cause of course is ours, declares himself
The suitor of thy ward, the Lady Orra;
And learning that within these walls she is,
By thine authority, in durance kept,
In his behalf I come to set her free;
As an oppressed Dame, such service claiming
From every gen'rous knight. What is thy answer?
Say, am I come in peace? Wilt thou release her?
Hugh. Ah, would I could! In faith thou gall'st me shrewdly.
Hart. I've been inform'd of all that now disturbs you,
By one who held me waiting at the gate.
Until the maid be found, if 'tis your pleasure,
Cease enmity.
Hugh. Then let it cease. A traitor has deceived me,
And there he lies.
(Pointing to the body of Rud.)
Hart. (looking at the body.)
A ghastly smile of fell malignity
On his distorted face death has arrested.
(Turning again to Hugh.)
And has he died, and no confession made?
All means that may discover Orra's fate
Shut from us?
Hugh. Ah! the fiend hath utter'd nothing
That could betray his secret. If she lives
El. Alas, alas! think you he murder'd her?
Al. Merciful heaven forefend!
Enter a Soldier in haste.
Sold. O, I have heard a voice, a dismal voice!
Omnes. What hast thou heard ?
El.What voice?
Sold.The Lady Orra's.
El. Where? Lead us to the place.
Hugh. Where did'st thou hear it, Soldier?
Sold. In a deep-tangled thicket of the wood,
Close to a ruin'd wall, o'ergrown with ivy,
That marks the ancient out-works of the castle.
Hugh. Haste; lead the way.
[Exeunt all eagerly, without order, following the Soldier, Glottenbal and one Attendant excepted.
Att. You do not go, my Lord?
Glot. I'm sick, and strangely dizzy grows my head,
And pains shoot from my wound. It is a scratch,
But from a devil's fang.—There's mischief in it.
Give me thine arm, and lead me to a couch:
I'm very faint.
Att. This way, my Lord, there is a chamber near.
[Exeunt Glottenbal, supported by the Attendant.
SCENE II.
The Forest near the Castle; in front a rocky Bank crowned with a ruined Wall o'ergrown with Ivy, and the Mouth of a Cavern shaded with Bushes: Enter Franco, conducting Hughobert, Hartman, Eleonora, Alice, and Urston, the Soldier following them.
Frank. (to Hugh.) This is the entry to our secret haunts.
And now, my Lord, having inform'd you truly
Of the device, well meant, but most unhappy,
By which the Lady Orra from her prison
By Falkenstein was ta'en, myself, my outlaws,
Unhappy men—who better days have seen,
Drove to this lawless life by hard necessity,
Are on your mercy cast.
Hugh. Which shall not fail you, valiant Franko. Much
Am I indebted to thee: had'st thou not
Of thine own free good will become our guide,
As wand'ring here thou found'st us, we had ne'er
The spot discover’d; for this honest soldier,
A stranger to the forest, sought in vain
To thread the tangled path.
El. (to Frank.) She is not well thou say'st, and from her swoon
Imperfectly recover'd.
Frank. When I left her.
She so appear'd,—But enter not, I pray,
Till I give notice.—Holla, you within!
Come forth and fear no ill.
(A shriek heard from the cave.)
Omnes. What dismal shriek is that?
Al. 'Tis Orra's voice.
El. No, no! it cannot be! It is some wretch,
In maniac's fetters bound.
Hart. The horrid thought that bursts into my mind!
Forbid it, righteous Heaven!
(Running into the cave, he is prevented by Theobald, who rushes out upon him.)
Theo. Hold, hold! no entry here but o'er my corse,
When ye have master'd me.
Hart. My Theobald
Dost thou not know thy friends?
Theo. Ha! thou, my Hartman! Art thou come to me?
Hart. Yes, I am come. What means that look of anguish?
She is not dead!
Theo.Oh, no! it is not death!
Hart. What mean'st thou? Is she well?
Theo.Her body is.
Hart. And not her mind?Oh! direst wreck of all!
That noble mind!But 'tis some passing seizure,
Some powerful movement of a transient nature;
It is not madness?
Theo. (shrinking from him, and bursting into tears.)
'Tis heaven's infliction; let us call it so;
Give it no other name. (Covering his face.)
El. (to Theo.) Nay, do not thus despair: when she beholds us,
She'll know her friends, and, by our kindly soothing,
Be gradually restored.
Al. Let me go to her.
Theo. Nay, forbear, I pray thee;
I will myself with thee, my worthy Hartman,
Go in and lead her forth.
(Theobald and Hartman go into the cavern, while those without wait in deep silence, which is only broken once or twice by a scream from the cavern and the sound of Theobald's voice speaking soothingly, till they return leading forth Orra, with her hair and dress disordered, and the appearance of wild distraction in her gait and countenance.)
Theo. Shrink not, dear love! it is the light of day.
Or. Have cocks crow'd yet?
Theo. Yes; twice I've heard already
Their mattin sound. Look up to the blue sky;
Is it not day-light there? And these green boughs
Are fresh and fragrant round thee: every sense
Tells thee it is the cheerful early day.
Or. Aye, so it is; day takes his daily turn,
Rising between the gulphy dells of night
Like whiten'd billows on a gloomy sea;
Till glow-worms gleam, and stars peep thro' the dark,
And will-o'-the-wisp his dancing taper light,
They will not come again.
(Bending her ear to the ground)
Hark, hark! Aye, hark:
They are all there: I hear their hollow sound
Full many a fathom down.
Theo. Be still, poor troubled soul! they'll ne'er return:
They are for ever gone. Be well assured
Thou shalt from henceforth have a cheerful home
With crackling faggots on thy midnight fire,
Blazing like day around thee; and thy friends—
Thy living, loving friends still by thy side,
To speak to thee and cheer thee.—See, my Orra!
Things move and seem to be, and yet are nothing.
Or. 'Tis like an old tune to my ear return'd.
For there be those, who sit in cheerful halls,
And breathe sweet air, and speak with pleasant sounds;
And once I liv'd with such; some years gone by;
I wot not now how long.
Of voices once familiar to her ear.
Let Alice sing to her some fav'rite tune,
That may lost thoughts recall.
(Alice sings an old tune, and Orra, who listens eagerly and gazes on her while she sings, afterwards bursts into a wild laugh.)
Or. Ha, ha! the witched air sings for thee bravely.
Hoot owls thro' mantling fog for mattin birds?
It lures not me.—I know thee well enough:
The bones of murder'd men thy measure beat,
And fleshless heads nod to thee.—Off, I say!
Why are ye here?—That is the blessed sun.
El. Ah, Orra! do not look upon us thus!
These are the voices of thy loving friends
That speak to thee: this is a friendly hand
That presses thine so kindly.
(Putting her hand upon Orra's, who gives a loud shriek, and shrinks from her with horror.)
What terror seizes thee?
Or. Take it away! It was the swathed dead!
I know its clammy, chill, and bony touch.
(Fixing her eyes fiercely on Eleanora.)
Come not again; I'm strong and terrible now:
Mine eyes have look'd upon all dreadful things;
And when the earth yawns, and the hell-blast sounds,
I'll 'bide the trooping of unearthly steps
With stiff-clench'd, terrible strength.
(Holding her clenched hands over her head with an air of grandeur and defiance.)
Hugh. (beating his breast.)
A murd'rer is a guiltless wretch to me.
Hart. Be patient; 'tis a momentary pitch;
Let me encounter it.
(Goes up to Orra, and fixes his eyes upon her, which she, after a moment, shrinks from and seeks to avoid, yet still, as if involuntarily, looks at him again.)
Or. Take off from me thy strangely-fasten'd eye:
I may not look upon thee, yet I must.
(Still turning from him, and still snatching a hasty look at him as before.)
Something of horrid power within thee dwells.
Still, still that powerful eye doth suck me in
Like a dark eddy to its wheeling core.
Spare me! O spare me, Being of strange power,
And at thy feet my subject head I'll lay.
(Kneeling to Hartman, and bending her head submissively.)
El. Alas, the piteous sight! to see her thus;
The noble, generous, playful, stately Orra!
Think'st thou I'll suffer o'er her wretched state
The slightest shadow of a base controul?
(Raising Orra from the ground.)
No, rise thou stately flower with rude blasts rent;
As honour'd art thou with thy broken stem
And leafets strew'd, as in thy summer's pride.
I've seen thee worshipp'd like a regal dame
With ev'ry studied form of mark'd devotion.
Whilst I, in distant silence, scarcely proffer'd
Ev'n a plain soldier's courtesy; but now,
No liege-man to his crowned mistress sworn,
Bound and devoted is as I to thee;
And he who offers to thy alter'd state
The slightest seeming of diminish'd rev'rence,
Hart. Nay, do thou pardon me: I am to blame:
Thy nobler heart shall not again be wrung.
But what can now be done? O'er such wild ravings,
There must be some controul.
Theo. O none! none, none! but gentle sympathy
And watchfulness of love.
My noble Orra!
Wander where'er thou wilt; thy vagrant steps
Shall follow'd be by one, who shall not weary,
Nor e'er detach him from his hopeless task;
Bound to thee now as fairest, gentlest beauty
Could ne'er have bound him.
Al. See how she gazes on him with a look,
Subsiding gradually.to softer sadness,
Half saying that she knows him.
El. There is a kindness in her changing eye.
Yes, Orra, 'tis the valiant Theobald,
Thy knight and champion, whom thou gazest on,
Or. The brave are like the brave; so should it be.
He was a goodly man—a noble knight.
Yet they have laid thy clay in unblest earth—
Shame! shame! not with the still'd and holy dead.
This shall be rectified; I'll find it out;
And masses shall be said for thy repose;
Thou shalt not troop with these.
El. 'Tis not the dead; 'tis Theobald himself,
Alive and well, who standeth by thy side.
Or. (looking wildly round.)
Let him begone! The place is horrible!
Baneful to flesh and blood.The dreadful blast!
Their hounds now yell below i'the centre gulph;
They may not rise again till solemn bells
Have given the stroke that severs night from morn.
El. O rave not thus! Dost thou not know us, Orra?
Or. (hastily.) Aye, well enough I know ye.
Urst. Ha! think ye that she does?
El. It is a terrible smile of recognition,
If such it be.
Hart. Nay, do not thus your restless eye-balls move,
But look upon us steadily, sweet Orra.
Or. Away! your faces waver to and fro;
I'll know you better in your winding-sheets,
When the moon shines upon ye.
Theo. Give o'er, my friends; you see it is in vain;
Her mind within itself holds a dark world
Of dismal phantasies and horrid forms!
Contend with her no more.
Enter an Attendant in an abrupt disturbed manner.
Att. (to Eleanor, aside.)
Lady, I bring to you most dismal news:
Too grievous for my Lord, so suddenly
And unprepar'd, to hear.
El (aside)What is it? Speak.
Still in his stiffen'd grasp retains, foul stains,
Like those of limed poison, shew full well
The wicked cause of his untimely death.
Hugh. (overhearing them.)
Who speaks of death? What did'st thou whisper there?
How is my son?What look is that thou wear'st?
He is not dead?Thou dost not speak! O God!
I have no son.
(After a pause)
I am bereft!But this!
But only him!—Heaven's vengeance deals the stroke.
Urst. Heaven oft in mercy smites ev'n when the blow
Severest is.
Hugh.I had no other hope.
Fell is the stroke, if mercy in it be!
Could this—could this alone atone my crime?
Urst. Submit thy soul to Heaven's all-wise decree.
Perhaps his life had blasted more thy hopes
Than ev'n his grievous end.
Hugh. He was not all a father's heart could wish;
But, oh! he was my son!—my only son:
My child—the thing that from his cradle grew,
And was before me, still.—Oh, oh! Oh, oh!
(Beating his breast, and groaning deeply.)
Or. (running up to him.)
Ha! dost thou groan, old man? Art thou in trouble?
Out on it! tho' they lay him in the mould,
He's near thee still.—I'll tell thee how it is:
A hideous burst hath been: the damn'd and holy,
The living and the dead, together are
In horrid neighbourship—'Tis but thin vapour,
Floating around thee, makes the wav'ring bound.
Poh! blow it off, and see th' uncurtain'd reach.
See! from all points they come; earth casts them up!
In grave-clothes swath'd are those but new in death;
And there be some half bone, half cased in shreds
Of that which flesh hath been; and there be some
With wicker'd ribs, thro' which the darkness scowls.
Back, back!—They close upon us:—Oh! the void
Of hollow unball'd sockets staring grimly,
And lipless jaws that move and clatter round us
In mockery of speech!—Back, back, I say!
Back, back!
(Catching hold of Hughobert and Theobald, and dragging them back with her in all the wild strength of frantic horror, whilst the curtain drops.)
THE END OF ORRA.